


homebound

by shamnesiac



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-15
Updated: 2020-01-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:00:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22266007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shamnesiac/pseuds/shamnesiac
Summary: Leon comes home after a long period in Wyndon. It’s a well-deserved break, but there’s a reason he’s been avoiding it.
Relationships: Dande | Leon/Hop
Comments: 5
Kudos: 63





	homebound

It had been 5 months since Leon had last journeyed to Postwick, and he was getting pretty antsy, to say the least.

What could he say? He was a family man all around. Prolonged severance from the ones he loved was like refuting sunlight to a flower; sooner or later, he was going to wilt. Inch by inch, he’d start building walls, tucking himself back in bed where he couldn’t be reminded of the daily Wyndon hustle. Hell, even the  _ media _ was starting to pick up on his reclusion, and Leon was practically a publicity prince. Anything that couldn’t be shaken off his tail was a clear sign of an issue.

Which is why the  _ Wailmer Street Journal _ ’s newest article- “Galar Champion Turning Into Hermit?!”- couldn’t be more opaque of an indicator; Leon  _ needed  _ a break. 

Even then, it took some heavy persuasion from the other gym leaders, who gave him the general rundown that “ _ No, Wyndon Stadium will not have disappeared by the time you're back, stop acting like it!” _ to get his ass in gear. Nessa even went ahead and bought him a train ticket, claiming he’d ”never get around to it if she didn't.'' Leon had pouted profusely, then, mostly to compensate for the fact that she was probably (totally) right. 

Either way, it doesn’t matter now. He’d packed his bags and boarded, his League companions cheering him through phone, text, and face-to-face encouragement (Nessa again), and now he was off- leaving Wyndon for a well-earned rest back home. At least, Leon hopes it was well-earned.

He bides the former half of his time on the train goofing off and getting into the thick of relaxation. Counting Miltank grazing on the faraway farmland, entertaining a Nurse Joy’s Indeedee, and signing about four autographs. 

Then, when he begins to recognize the scenery whizzing by, he spends the latter half of his time well and fully panicking. 

_ His family, opinions, Wedgehurst, Hop, his mum, the media, Hop, the Wooloo, Hop, Hop, Hop.  _

He’s really, really worried about Hop. 

Or, rather, Leon’s afraid of how he  _ thinks _ of Hop. How he loves that kid so much, both as a brother, and  _ too _ much, as something raw and wretched and dirty. He’s taken aback by the tidal wave of remembrance; reminded why he’s strayed away for so long, why he’s so worried about his family, why he couldn’t go back- because his baby brother deserves  _ more _ than this. He deserves more than his pervy, absent Champion brother, and-

_ “You have now arrived at Wedgehurst Station! Thank you, and have a good day.”  _ The conductor announces, her honey-sweet voice feeling venomous to Leon’s ears.

Still, he stands up, though pressed only by the Nurse Joy and her accompanying Indeedee. They’d smiled at him and stepped aside, allowing him a free cut ahead. Leon takes the offer as every synapse in his body flashing in hesitation. “Thank you,” he says, nodding his head in what he hopes seems like a reasonable enough effort of gratitude. 

Throughout his departure from the engine, all throughout Wedgehurst, he can feel sweat beading against his palms like it’s the nerve of a gym battle. Not even the distant calls of enthusiastic fans makes way to alleviate the tension- if anything, they just set off his fuse further. Then again, Route 1 is even worse; his profile must reminisce even amongst the wild Pokémon, because none of them scurry on to challenge him. The silence through the remainder of his trek feels like mere insult to injury: nature’s little  _ gotcha, freak!  _ to his awful memory and awfuller moral compass. Leon doesn’t even know what’s pushing him forward at this point- it’s not like he  _ can’t _ ditch all his plans, and make futile efforts to relax at Wedgehurst instead. All he knows is that his feet are moving, and his house is drawing closer from the distance. 

Slowly, Route 1 tapers off, and Postwick tapers in. Then, not so slow at all,  _ very _ familiar shout that echoes off every brick and tree in a 3-kilometer proximity. 

“Lee!” It cries; a raw, endlessly joyful noise that sounds like a Rookidee, cheeping ecstatically. A voice that Leon knows all too well, knows more than anyone else, one that quickly returns for a second go as if the first one wasn’t explanatory enough. “Lee, you’re back!” 

_ Hop.  _

And for a moment, Leon loses all semblance of fear. The voice isn’t angry, it’s not upset, and- most importantly- it’s not disgusted. No, it’s one of love and adoration and affection without bounds, one that makes Leon feel as if the fight has been abruptly siphoned out of him. 

As if on instinct, his knees crook slightly. 

The action lowers himself closer to the Route 1 entrance grounds, and  _ just _ acutely enough for his younger brother to come hurtling into his arms. They lock around Hop’s waist and pull him close, all while he babbles endlessly about his Wooloo, or their Mum, or how much he’d missed him. Leon hates the idea that he doesn’t register every word, but unfortunately, he cuts his brother off right on the tail-end of a spiel about curry. Maybe in the most destructive way possible. 

He lands a peck squarely on Hop’s forehead, and then again on the lips. It’s short, discreet, and utterly devastating, like a falter in a fight Leon had been so disgusted to partake in. 

It leaves his brother’s words to fall short in his throat, and the rest to hang abandoned in empty country air. Leon isn’t capable of forming more to fill the void, as the guilt forms a knot in his throat so tight he can barely breathe, much less communicate. Instead, they lay there, the embrace limper than before but never exactly undone. 

Leon wonders how much the situation will worsen if he takes off into the trees and lives as a runaway instead. The debate probably only lasts about 10 seconds before it’s cut off, but it feels like ages, though he’d never even gotten to draw a conclusion. Instead, it’s intercepted.

Not by his horrified Mum. Not by policemen, or disgusted onlookers, or even a passerby Yamper giving him a dirty look. No, instead it’s made by none other than his little brother. By Hop. By the one person who should be angriest at him- who should berate him and beat him and tell him how utterly  _ terrible _ of a big brother he is, but…

But he doesn’t. Because Hop’s never been that way. Leon doesn’t know if it’s out of love or if it’s out of kindness. He knows which one he’d like more, and it’s the same one that makes him so selfish. Though Hop would never say so, would only comfort and assure him, because maybe- just maybe- Hop loves him, too.

It doesn’t even need to be more-than-a-brother.

Nevertheless, the way Hop says, “Hey, Lee, why’d you stop?” with all the unadulterated joy in the world… well, it makes Leon have the  _ tiniest _ inkling otherwise. 

He’ll really just have to find out. If some Yamper wants to come along and stare daggers into his back, so be it. Leon’s always been awful at denying his baby brother things, after all. 

“I guess I was just caught up in my head,” he laughs, ducking back down again. “Sorry. It’s really good to see you.” 

Leon, earnest. Hop smiles back just the same.


End file.
